Tuesday, 15 November 2011

Beer School or Charm School

Just had a short but thought provoking text chat with Tony Lennon, GM of craft beer bar, The Euston Tap regarding a visit from a sales rep(tile)* he's just had.
Tony's point was that this lady had a very good brand to work with and indeed very good beers that she was trying to sell but she knew fuck all about beer! Apparently she was trying to use her female charms and i'll quote Tony's text here so there's no confusion, 'she literally batted her eyelids at me. Like I'm some sort of sex starved Wetherspoons manager. Please....'

Please indeed. We all know he's gagging for it!** ;)

pic found at tiffanyandlupus.com - SuperTony

But getting back to my topic and Tony's point which is a very good one, a bit of beer knowledge goes a long way. If a brewery hires a person to cold call into pubs with their beers, surely they should take the time to teach the person about about the beer they are selling?

I have had a similar experience with a brewery which will remain unnamed. When the rep first walked through the door at The Rake(it was a couple of years ago) she was young, giggly, dappy and frankly I found her extremely irritating.

If a sales reptile has to use their charm as a sales technique then they have already lost the battle with me, especially if their product does not stand up to scrutiny, as it didn't in my experience.

In summary then...
Reptiles! Know your product! Because you do not know me! I don't care if the reptile is female or male, know your bloody product! I'm too busy for that sort of shit, stop wasting my time!
Breweries! Train your reptiles! Because I won't order from you if your reptiles do waste my time!

Flirt with Tony by all means because he's gagging for it but he's a very knowledgeable chap so don't treat him like a piece of meat, he'll just feel used and dirty, tell him about your beer, your brewery and the birds and the bees!

4 comments:

Anonymous
said...

Female charms eh? Must've been BJ's all round to explain one recent shocking run of shit beers from one particular awful brewery (small idylic country house) at one small London bar (not a spade) in particulur then.